


What Could Have Been

by EerieDescent



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Angst, Mental Health Issues, Other, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 08:33:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29365563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EerieDescent/pseuds/EerieDescent
Summary: ***TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE, SELF HARM, MISUSE OF MEDICATION***"All he had left were memories and dreams of what could have been."People were like glass, some more than others.  Mikey Way especially, already cracked close to the breaking point.  Fragile.  Weak.  And he can't take it anymore.  The thoughts he can't control, the feelings of uselessness, the worthless attempts to pull himself back together.  It's too much.To Ray Toro, Mikey wasn't weak glass, but rather delicate glass.  Still breakable, but less likely to shatter into millions of pieces.  Someone who needed support to help stop the breakage from happening and Ray was more than happy to provide that support.  He would do anything for the man he loves.  Anything.But it was hard to do anything when Mikey had already made up his mind.*Oneshot*
Relationships: Ray Toro/Mikey Way
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	What Could Have Been

**Author's Note:**

> ***PLEASE BE WARNED THAT THIS FIC HAS TRIGGERING CONTENT***
> 
> Trigger Warning: suicide, self harm, misuse of medication  
> (please let me know if you think I should add more)
> 
> This fic is just a way for me to get some dark thoughts out of my head. I understand that it might be difficult to get through, but I do appreciate anybody who decides to read this.

"Are you sure you don't want to stay the night?"

Mikey's heart squeezed a little. No, he couldn't stay. As inviting as the offer sounded (and more likely than not would be), he just couldn't. But there was no way he could tell Ray something that sounded so cryptic. Instead he smiled up at the taller man, trying his best to ignore the pain and guilt in his chest.

"Yeah, I'm sure," he replied. "I'm not feeling that great anyways, so I should probably sleep in my own bed." Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

You can't exactly tell one of the few people in your life who cared for you that you were a hopeless cause when it came to living as a whole and going home to kill yourself. 

Ray wrapped his arms around Mikey loosely, his hands resting at Mikey's lower back. "Does that mean I shouldn't kiss you?"

Mikey bit his lip. _No, please kiss me. I can't do this if I don't properly say goodbye._

"It's my stomach. I think I ate too much. You're not gonna get diseased from me, Toro," Mikey joked. 

_Yes, he is. You're tainting him. He deserves someone so much better than you._

Mikey bit his lip again, a nervous habit he couldn't break if he tried. He looked down, unable to look Ray in the eyes. Ray _did_ deserve someone better than Mikey. Ray deserved the world and Mikey could barely give him a blade of grass.

A warm hand under his chin brought Mikey back to the present before he could get too lost in his own head. Ray's eyes met his and Mikey's heart seemed to skip at beat like it did whenever he looked at Ray. Thank God for the man who could read Mikey better than he could read himself. Who couldn't hear the thoughts but could still always find a way to stop them, even if for a moment.

"You okay?" Ray asked. "You've seemed a little..." Ray paused, pursing his lips, no doubt searching for a word that wouldn't offend Mikey. " _Off_ today."

 _Not at all_. "Yeah. Just tired, I guess."

"You sure?"

Mikey forced a small smile to his lips. "Yup."

Ray didn't look all that convinced, but that was just his nature. A worrier at heart, especially about Mikey. But it wasn't without reason. Ray knew what went on inside Mikey's head, knew about the horrible thoughts, the depression, the anxiety. Of course, he didn't know _all_ the details. There were some things that were better left private.

One of those things being Mikey's suicidal tendencies.

He couldn't let Ray know because Ray would try to stop him and he didn't want that.

It wasn't that he wanted to die, he just wanted the pain to stop, and death seemed like the only way for that to happen.

It made some semblance of sense in Mikey's screwed up head.

"Hey," Mikey whispered, pressing a light kiss to Ray's cheek. "I'm fine. I promise." Though he wouldn't be if he had to lie to Ray one more time.

"If you say so." Ray sighed. "I just worry about you, Mikey."

"I know." Mikey wrapped his arms around Ray's neck, relishing in the way Ray's hand moved from under his chin to his cheek, cupping his face. Cold from the ring on Ray's finger bit into Mikey's cheek, reminding him of the identical band on his left hand. Guilt once again twisted in Mikey's gut. Maybe he didn't have to go through with his plans tonight. Maybe he could wait. Maybe....

_No, it has to be tonight. You already said goodbye to Gerard and he comes back home tomorrow. Say goodbye to Ray, too, and then get on with it._

Mikey tried his best not to flinch, and came close to succeeding. The motion his body made could have been passed as a shiver. That voice. That goddamn _voice_.

Mikey and Ray stood there in each other's arms for a little while longer, not wanting to let go, not wanting to say goodbye. But it was inevitable. Everything, even seemingly perfect moments like this, came to an end. Ray leaned down, his forehead resting against Mikey's, his curls brushing against the other man's face.

"Alright, well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow, right?" Ray asked.

"Yeah." _I just won't be alive to see_ you _._

"Okay." Ray smiled, and gently pressed his lips to Mikey's. And that was when the gravity of the whole situation really hit Mikey. This would be the last time he saw Ray. The last time they would hold each other. 

Their final kiss.

The thought made Mikey press his lips harder against Ray's, memorizing how they fit together, ingraining this final moment in his brain, never wanting to forget it. Ray reciprocated the action, kissing Mikey back so hard there would undoubtedly be bruises. Their lips moved together frantically, _desperately_. Everything about this innocent kiss had suddenly turned very passionate, from the way Mikey's body arched into Ray's to urgent hands running through each other's hair.

They only broke apart when they couldn't breathe. Even then, Mikey didn't want to stop. He could tell from how the taller man continued to hold him close that Ray didn't, either.

Mikey kept his eyes closed as he buried his face in the crook of Ray's neck, just letting himself be held, letting himself be weak, even if for a moment or two. But being weak meant ultimately breaking. 

And Mikey's breaking point was very close.

"I love you," Mikey murmured, his voice muffled against Ray's skin. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he blinked them away. "I love you so much, Ray."

"I love you, too." Four simple words, yet they caused so much pain. Carried so much weight. Too much weight.

A cold set in Mikey's entire body when Ray finally let go. This was it. He took Ray's hand and squeezed it, looking for just a little bit of warmth. He got it when Ray smiled at him. 

"I'll see you tomorrow," Ray said, opening his apartment door for Mikey. Even that simple action caused Mikey's heart to squeeze from guilt.

"Okay." A sudden onslaught of emotion brought the words tumbling from his mouth a second time. "I love you."

Ray pressed another kiss to Mikey's lips, this one quicker and more innocent than their last. "I love you, too."

And with that, Mikey stepped over the threshold and into the hallway, his lips still tingling from the kisses. He turned just in time to catch a small wave from Ray and the door closing behind him.

***

Mikey barely locked the door of his shared apartment behind him before he broke down in tears. He collapsed against the wall, sliding down it until he rested in a ball, his forehead pressing against his knees, sobs shaking his entire body. Oh _God_ , he couldn't do this. He couldn't go through with it. He couldn't do that to Ray, to Gerard, even to Frank, one of his closest friends who had recently taken a liking to Gerard. He just _couldn't_. 

But he also knew he couldn't take just plain _existing_ anymore.

Mikey was done. Done with pretending. Pretending that everything was fine when it was really shit, pretending that the pills worked, pretending that therapy actually did something, pretending that the cuts on his arms and thighs didn't _hurt_ every time he moved. Done with pretending that he wasn't constantly on the verge of shattering into millions of tiny pieces. 

All he wanted was to pour himself out to someone who he knew cared about him, someone close to him. To let them know the true extent of his pain and his never ceasing inner war. But he didn't want to inconvenience any of them with his problems. So he shouldered the burden himself. And it was breaking him. Slowly but surely, Mikey Way was breaking.

He clasped his hands over his mouth, trying to silence some of the sobs, the flood of tears wetting his hands. It was too much. The pain. The loneliness pressing down on him in the empty apartment, and in that moment, he wished he had stayed with Ray because maybe then he wouldn't be quite so alone, and he would have someone to hold him as he cried, and maybe, just maybe, he would let his walls down and show Ray what was really happening in his head. And then he didn't have to do this, he didn't have to die. 

But, no. Mikey cried alone.

 _I_ _can't_ _do_ _this_.

_You have to. It's now or never._

Eyes still blurry with tears, his lips still trembling, Mikey stood and walked to his bedroom. He passed Gerard's empty room on the way there and Mikey pushed the door open, hoping against hope that his brother had somehow materialized in their apartment and was sitting on his bed reading a comic, just so that Mikey could see him one last time before he went through with his plan. But no such luck. There was no Gerard, just like Mikey knew there would be.

He entered his own bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

He had written his letters a few days prior, when the idea had truly solidified in his mind. One for Ray, one for Gerard, one for Frank. They were nothing special, just a couple of paragraphs filled with apologies and final _I love you_ s, but Mikey knew that the three of them would hold those words close to them for a while, maybe even for the rest of their lives. He didn't know.

Mikey laid the three letters side by side at the foot of his bed then he paused, looking at the gold ring on his left hand. The one that signified his upcoming marriage. And he slipped it off his finger and placed it on top of Ray's letter. He wanted Ray to have it, he just didn't want Ray to have to pry it from his dead body.

The thought caused a fresh wave of tears to overcome Mikey. He bit his lip to keep them at bay. He couldn't cry again. He refused to cry again. He didn't want to spend the final minutes of his life a sobbing wreck.

Because that's what these moments were. His last minutes.

A deep breath as he opened the drawer on his bedside table, revealing the blade and bottle of useless pills. Well, useless in trying to fix him. Not so useless now, at least to Mikey. He picked them both up with shaking hands. His heart beat out of control, his blood rushed in his ears. He was really doing this. He was really going to end it all right then and there.

Mikey pushed up the sleeve of his hoodie, displaying his scars. He positioned the blade over his arm and cut. And he did it again. And again.

And again.

And again until it felt like the hundredth time, until he was sobbing his heart out, dizzy from the pain and the blood loss and oh dear God _why_ did he do this? Why? A small part of him wanted to stop, wanted to rush to the bathroom and stop the bleeding and save his own goddamn _life_. But the venomous voice in his head, his own demon, his depression, his fucked up brain told him to pick up the bottle of pills and swallow as many as he possibly could.

So he did.

Mikey fell against his bed, sick to his stomach, trembling all over, cries still pouring from his body as much as the blood was pouring from his arms. This was it. He was going to die. And he was so wrong to think that this was the answer to stopping his pain. Because he was in absolute agony right now.

Just before his vision when dark, Mikey whispered two words that he wanted somebody, anybody to hear, because they were so very true:

"I'm sorry."

***

Ray couldn't sleep that night. His mind kept wandering back to his time spent with Mikey today, how odd Mikey had been acting all day. Ray knew Mikey had mental health problems, knew about his depression, knew that there would be good days and bad days. Surely today had just been a bad day, right? 

Then why couldn't he sleep?

 _Something's wrong_.

Ray threw off his blanket, deciding _screw it, who needed sleep_? He needed to call Mikey. He needed to make sure he was alright. Even though it was almost midnight and Mikey had left just about three hours ago and was probably asleep. Ray just needed closure.

He wanted to make sure his baby was alright.

The phone rang until Mikey's familiar voicemail played in Ray's ear. Ray paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts before speaking. "Hey Mikes. I know it's late, but I just wanted to, um, check on you. You probably won't see this until morning, so call me then, okay? I love you." And he hung up, sighing. That hadn't helped in the least. He considered calling again, just to be sure, but then decided against it. He had left a message, so Mikey knew he had called.

Mikey would call him back in the morning. Ray was sure of it.

Even then, Ray didn't fall asleep until hours later, a sick feeling stirring in his gut.

***

"What do you think he'll say?" Frank asked as Gerard unlocked the door to his and Mikey's shared apartment. 

Gerard smirked, glancing back at the shorter man. "Probably _what took you so long?_ " His intimidation of Mikey made Frank laugh, practically _giggle_ , sending Gerard's heart fluttering. Such a beautiful sound.

Finally, Gerard got the door open and pulled his suitcase through the door. While traveling to New York for his comics had been fun, it was nice to be home, however early it was. And yes, eight in the morning _was_ early, at least to him. His perception of time was something that Frank had made fun of him for countless times and would continue making fun of him for.

"Mikey!" Gerard called out into the silent apartment. "Mikey, I'm back!" He dropped his luggage next to the front door after he shut it and laced his fingers through Frank's. He tugged on Frank's hand, guiding him through the apartment. "Frank's here, too. We have something to tell you."

No response.

Which was strange. Mikey was usually awake by now. Maybe he had his earbuds in?

"Come on," Gerard said to Frank, pulling him towards Mikey's bedroom.

"Maybe he's still asleep?" Frank suggested. "Or he's with Ray."

"At eight in the morning?" Gerard glanced back and Frank just shrugged.

"He could have spent the night. They were together yesterday, right?"

"I think so. But he would have called to let me know..." Gerard's voice trailed off when he caught sight of Mikey's door, not quite closed all the way, but far enough that he couldn't see inside. And deep within him, something told him that something wasn't right.

So it was with a tightened grip on Frank's hand and his own shaking slightly as Gerard opened the door.

At first glance, everything looked fine. Mikey was there, sprawled across his bed, not underneath the blankets, which Gerard found strange, but rather just on top. But when he looked closer, everything was wrong. Small little things painted this almost peaceful image in a terrifying light. Three pieces of paper at the foot of Mikey's bed. The pill bottle beside him, the cap discarded on the floor. And now that he thought of it, Mikey was laying there almost abnormally still.

Frank put it together faster than Gerard.

"Oh my god," he whispered, and those three words sent Gerard rushing to the bed, rushing to his baby brother, one singular word repeating itself over and over in his mind.

_No. No, no, no, please no._

Mikey's eyes were closed, but his face was pale, paler than normal, but the truly horrifying part to all this rested further down, in his sliced arms and few stray pills scattered next to him. In his unmoving chest and air of eerie stillness.

Too still.

"Mikey?" Gerard whispered, reaching out a tentative hand and grasping his brother's shoulder. Gerard shook him a little, biting his lip. Tears began flooding his eyes when Mikey didn't react whatsoever.

The hand on Gerard's back couldn't even tear his gaze away from the horror before him. "Gee." Frank's voice was soft, but the tremor in it was unmistakable. 

Gerard shrugged Frank's hand away. Accepting condolences, sympathy, _pity_ , was accepting what had happened as reality and he wasn't ready for that yet.

"Don't," Gerard said, shaking Mikey harder. "He's gonna wake up. He has to." His voice broke on the last few words, tears beginning to slide down his cheeks. "Come on, Mikey, please wake up. Please do something. Don't just lay there. Please..."

And Gerard Way broke, too.

He collapsed against the bed, against Mikey, his head on Mikey's chest, listening desperately for the heartbeat that wasn't there, and sobbed. Deep, earth shaking sobs filled with insurmountable pain and loss and anguish that physically _hurt_ Gerard's chest every time one slipped free. He was so out of it that he didn't even realize Frank had pulled him away from the bed and into his arms until there was a hand running through his black hair soothingly and a sound besides his own cries and an empty chest filled his ears. Frank's heartbeat.

"I'm so sorry, Gee," Frank murmured, pressing his lips against Gerard's forehead. 

Gerard just cried harder, letting out a strangled sound he didn't know was possible to make.

Because his little brother was dead, so what else could he do?

***

Ray had not expected to get a call from Frank Iero at eight thirty that morning. In fact, he had been almost disappointed when he saw it wasn't Mikey. He was still waiting to hear back from his future husband.

"Hey Frank," Ray started, then paused when he heard very audible sobbing coming from the background. It wasn't Frank, he knew that much, but someone else in the room with him. And it filled Ray with an icy fear. "What's going on? What happened?"

"You need to come over." Frank didn't answer Ray's question, but the shakiness in his voice, along with the incessant wails, sent Ray springing up and getting ready to leave.

"To your place?" Ray asked, probably setting a record for fastest time out of an apartment and to a car. 

"No, Gerard's," Frank replied. His next two words sent Ray's racing heart to a skidding stop.

"It's Mikey."

Ray started his car, speeding out onto the road. "What happened to him? Is he okay?"

"I..." Frank choked on what sounded like a sob. "You should come over to see for yourself."

"Frank, please, tell me."

"I can't. I don't think I can say it. Just, hurry, okay?" 

Ray hung up before he could say anything back. His heart was racing again, almost as fast as his thoughts. What was wrong? What had happened to Mikey? To his baby? He didn't want to know; he had to know.

_Oh god, please let him be okay. Please._

Thankfully, Ray didn't live too far away from the Way brothers' apartment, so he arrived fairly quickly. He jumped out of his car, not even bothering to stop and lock it, just hitting the button and hoping that it did. He practically sprinted to the apartment, pounding on the door once he got there. Frank, eyes bloodshot and face tear stained, opened it. The agonized cries still came from somewhere in the space.

Ray pushed past Frank, heart pounding wildly. "Where is he?" he demanded. Frank just pointed weakly down the hall, towards the bedrooms. 

And Ray ran. _I'm coming, Mikey._

He burst into Mikey's bedroom, taking in the scene before him. Gerard curled against the wall, crying his heart out. And Mikey.

Oh, Mikey.

Somehow, there was no second looks and incredulous feeling that Gerard felt. Somehow, the awful truth hit Ray all at once.

And he screamed.

"Mikey!" He ran over to the bed, ignoring Gerard, throwing himself down next to Mikey, his hands immediately going up to cup Mikey's face. The same face that Ray had held just the night before as they kissed until they were breathless, the same face that had been warm and full of life not even a day ago, hours ago, that was now cold to the touch and expressionless. Lifeless.

"Oh, no, please no. Mikey..." Ray's voice trailed off as his throat thickened from holding back tears. He didn't succeed in holding them back for very long.

And the tears cascaded down Ray's face as he crashed his lips against Mikey's, wishing for some fairy tale type bullshit where the true love's kiss wakes the sleeping beauty, wishing to feel Mikey kissing him back, wishing for something besides the frigid and unresponsive lips pressed against his, something besides the cruel reality of the situation at hand.

Because Ray could fantasize and hope and even make wishes on shooting stars if he wanted, but the real world would always be there to hit you with the cold facts.

One of those facts being that the love of his life was gone forever.

***

It had been a week since Mikey had died. A week since Ray had truly felt alive, a week since Ray's heart and soul had shattered into irreparable pieces. A week that felt like a century.

Ray sat at what constituted his kitchen table in his small apartment, holding Mikey's wedding ring close to his face, trying to ignore the piece of paper on the table in front of him. The paper with the deep creases from being folded and unfolded countless times over the last seven days, the paper with the tear stains, the paper that held Mikey's final words to Ray in black ink.

The suicide note.

_"Can I open my eyes, Ray?"_

_"No, not yet." Not until Ray knew everything was absolutely perfect. He scanned the small clearing like he had earlier today when he set everything up. Small lights twinkled in the trees, white paper lanterns hanging among them. Even the grass was strewn with white petals, which Ray wanted to think were rose petals, but he honestly had no idea. He supposed that was what he got when he enlisted Gerard's help, although he wasn't sure that Gerard would go cheap on anything involving his brother, especially not his brother's proposal._

_Ray dug his hand that wasn't occupying Mikey's into his pocket for seemingly the hundredth time that night to make sure that the small box was still there. Kind of important that you had the ring when you were going to propose, right?_

_"Ray," Mikey huffed, impatient. Ray just laughed slightly._

_"Just give me a second." Still holding Mikey's hand, Ray went to stand in front of Mikey, then knelt down, pulling out the ring. Somehow, he managed to open the box with one hand. "Okay. Open them."_

_The look on Mikey's face had made Ray wish he'd brought a camera, but he didn't think he'd be forgetting this moment anytime soon._

_"Mikey, I love you. I'll love you forever and ever and don't you ever forget that." Ray paused, trying to pick something out of all the thoughts swirling in his head. "You're my favorite person in the whole world and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. So, Mikey Way, will you marry me?"_

_Mikey stood there, speechless, for a moment before his face erupted into the largest smile Ray had ever seen. "Yes. Yes, yes, yes, I'll marry you, Ray."_

_Ray couldn't stand fast enough and pull Mikey into a kiss. Mikey pulled away just far away to breathe "God, I love you so much, Ray Toro" against Ray's lips. At those words, Ray could feel his heart swell, pure joy surging inside of him. He was going to marry Mikey. They were going to be together forever._

_Neither of them could stop smiling for the rest of the night._

Ray wished he could feel that way again.

He just wanted to feel something besides the overwhelming numbness.

Something besides numbness and sorrow.

Barely two weeks ago, Mikey and Ray had been making wedding plans. They had been planning their future together. They had felt unstoppable. Or, at least, Ray had felt unstoppable. The fact that Mikey had taken his own life showed that maybe he had felt completely stoppable. Vulnerable _._

Now, he had to help make funeral plans.

Ray didn't want to cry again, but he couldn't stop himself. His mind filled with all the times he and Mikey had shared, their dreams and hopes for the future. When they first met. Their first kiss. That time when Ray tried to teach Mikey how to play the acoustic guitar. When they spent an entire night stargazing and fell asleep in the same place where Ray had proposed. The house they were going to get together, with a room dedicated to their musical endeavors and a backyard they could spend all day in if they wanted to.

But now Ray didn't see himself ever leaving this apartment. Didn't see the music room or the backyard or even the dogs he and Mikey had wanted. He didn't see any of that. Because he couldn't have any of that without Mikey. Ray had nothing without him, without Mikey, his Mikey, his best friend and soulmate and everything he could have asked for in a person.

All he had left were memories and dreams of what could have been.


End file.
